


But We Are Not Gods

by Morveren



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Explicit Language, F/M, Horror, Nudity, Psychological Torture, Romance, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 07:09:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11270553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morveren/pseuds/Morveren
Summary: The Dead City is a city in two parts. The first half belonged to the vampires, the part where it's always dark no matter what part of the day it was.The second half belonged to the wolves, where they were free to hunt whatever they wanted.And on the days leading up to the full moon, the wolves start craving for...something a little more exotic than an animal.





	1. Red Riding Hood

My leg wouldn’t stop bleeding.

There must be something in the wolves’ teeth that prevented wounds from closing; blood was seeping through the makeshift bandage I’ve wrapped around the injury.

Never mind, I’ve got to keep moving. My one hour head start was almost up.

The siren could sound at any minute.

If the wolves caught me so far away from my destination, I would die; no question about that.

_Wait, wait, stop. Breathe._

With shaking hands, I took off my scarf; the last piece of clothing I’d started with when I’d been set loose. Everything else: from the sweat-stained coat to the hand-knit cap, I’d gotten from one of the many hidden caches of clothes scattered throughout the city.

Each set of clothes was different: some smelled like stale sweat, while others had been spritzed with cheap perfume. Others held more exotic scents like semen or vamp.

It didn’t matter; the rule was that the clothes had to smell strongly enough to mask the wearer’s own scent.

The set I was wearing had probably belonged to a calf; it smelled of blood and moonshine and it had that certain stink of desperation that only a calf could exude. I briefly wondered what my own clothes would smell like as I raised my scarf high in the air and let the wind whip through it.

I didn’t have to think on it too long though; I knew I smelled of fear. Every Hare probably did. I released my hold on the scarf and let the wind carry it away.

Hopefully, that would confuse the wolves or at the very least, delay them. But I doubted it. Even in their human form, the wolves had a powerful sense of smell.

Bracing myself, I started running again. Pain shot up my leg, but I dared not stop.

God knows how long I have left.

I must have been running for three, maybe four minutes when I heard it: the siren.

It was a great booming sound that swept across the Dead City, announcing to everyone that the sun had risen. In the days before the wolves had claimed their territory, it was used to send a message to the people that it was now safe to leave their homes.

Now it just meant that the Hunt has begun.

Screw it. I ran faster.

Not in a straight line though; instead, I ducked through alleyways, wove past dark corners and frequently changed my side of the road.  
It made my journey slower, but hopefully safer.

 

Mentally, I calculated how long it would take for the wolves to catch up to me.

In human form, where their sense of smell was not as acute and their pace was slower, maybe forty-five minutes.

But in wolf form? Maddened by the thrill of the Hunt and propelled by instinct, they’d run fast but they’d also get confused. They’d fight over any scraps of clothing they might find. Some of the newer pups might get too excited, hinder the older ones.

I saw a lot of pups this morning.

If they hunted for me as wolves, I had a little over an hour. 

Hopefully.

The knowledge made my heart lift, and for a moment, the pain in my leg seemed to lessen.

I could make it to Crow’s Nest. Slowing my pace to a jog, I took a right at an alley and kept going.

Then I heard them: the howling. My hunters had decided to chase me on four legs.

The hairs on the back of my neck started bristling at the distant sound of their howls. They had no moon to sing to; the night belonged to the vamps, forcing the wolves to hunt during the day.

But there was still something eerie about the way they sang: it was a declaration of power, a signal to the Hare who hears it that her time is up: I am a predator. You are my prey.

And they were right, I _was_ prey. I cowered in the shadows, I cringed at the sound of their howls, but I would be damned if I would get caught.

Then, I heard a sound that made the blood freeze in my veins: an answering call to the wolves, rough and unnatural, because the one who answered was not in his wolf form.

No, this one came from the throat of a human.

And it was very close.

****

*********

I don’t know how long I stood in that alleyway, frozen in fear and hardly daring to breathe. It seemed that my very thoughts had frozen up; I felt so cold.

No wolf could have tracked me that fast. Even on my lame leg, I knew that it would take at least half an hour to find me. 

I took every precaution I knew.

This wasn’t my first Hunt, I knew what I had to do to evade capture. 

That only meant one thing: whoever the wolf was, it had been stalking me since I had been set loose. The realization made my heart pound, my pulse beating loudly in my ears.

No time to think, I crouched down to make a smaller target of myself. I made myself scan the alleyway for any possible exits or hiding places.

A dumpster. An open window. A rusted fire exit ladder.

I could hide in the dumpster, if it had any rotting garbage in it, all the better to hide me. But if whoever was stalking me _did_ check the dumpster, I would have to fight my way out.

Against one of those beasts, in human form or not, like my chances. If I’d been uninjured, I could have used the ladder and traveled across the rooftops. I had lived through two other Hunts that way.

But with my leg injured (and still bleeding), I didn’t like the idea of jumping across wide gaps, where the single misstep could send me plummeting down. 

A slight breeze in the wind made the entire thing creak; any wolf within the immediate vicinity would hear me climb up it.

That left the window. Most buildings in the Dead City were abandoned, whatever useful things they once contained had long been stolen by scavengers. Climbing through an open window would give me a means to escape. Palms slick with sweat, I crept to the window, trying to make as little noise as possible.

How far away was the wolf? Judging by the sound of the howl, it was very, very close.

“Hare,” somebody rasped.

Like a fool, I froze in place.

“I can smell you, Hare.”

That was a lie, it _couldn’t_ have smelled me. Not with all the precautions I took.

“Are you afraid?” It laughed then, a loud, raucous belly laugh that echoed across the empty street. 

_Yes._

“You should be.”

Did that shadow on the ground, lingering just outside the alleyway, belong to my pursuer? It was too much to hope it was not. 

Hope came too little for people like me.

I tried to move but my legs seemed to have frozen solid. Sweat began to form on my brow.

Crow’s Nest seemed so far away now.

Then, the shadow started moving.

A second. Two. The time it took to take a single breath.

Then, “ _Move_ ,” I whispered to myself.

To my intense relief, my legs obeyed the order and I continued my path to the window, more worried about speed than silence now. The  
shadow continued to move, almost as if it were a living creature, crawling, crawling towards me.

When I reached the window, my hands were so slick with sweat that I had to pause so I could wipe them on my coat.  
I gripped the windowsill with both hands and pulled myself up.

“Hare.”

That was when I slipped, startled by the voice as much as my recognition of it. My grip on the window slackened—just the tiniest bit—and I crashed painfully back to the ground.

The wolf was just at the end of the alleyway, smiling widely at me and exposing his teeth, chipped and yellowed like old tombstones.

I _knew_ him.

Dayal.

He was a tall man, dark-skinned and heavily muscled. When he clenched his fists at the sight of me, his forearms bulged and I knew, just _knew_ that a single punch would put me to sleep.

In a physical fight, I had no chance against this man.

His hair was a matted mess, a thick, black bird’s nest that looked like it hadn’t seen a comb in years.

Like most wolves participating in the Hunt, he was naked except for the belt of wolfskin tied around his waist.

The center of his power. 

It might have been beautiful, once. The fur was silver with dark streaks but the belt itself was so caked with blood and mud that the whole thing looked almost black.

In one hand, he clutched my scarf.

Without breaking eye contact with me, he raised the piece of cloth to his face and inhaled deeply.

“I smell you,” he rasped. “I’ve always been good at hunting Hares like that.”

He let go of the scarf, letting it flutter to the ground, pooling at his feet like a puddle of blood.

Just the act of the wolf touching it, inhaling my scent on it felt more intimate than the sight of wolf naked, his body covered in dark, wiry hair and his penis hanging between his legs.

The scarf had been a gift.

The sight of it lying discarded at his feet filled me with a sudden, senseless rage.

I spoke through my fear, “Fuck you, wolf.”

The wolf’s smile faded at my words, his eyes shone. “I’ll make you regret that.”

He fell to his knees and began to Change. It was an ugly thing, the metamorphosis from man to beast. The skin distorts as the bones beneath it begin to crack and reshape themselves, the head starts to elongate into a cruel wolf’s muzzle. Fur, the same color as the wolfskin belt, begins to shoot from their skin.

That was when Dayal raised his head, his eyes already an unnatural gold, and looked at me.

I saw my death in those eyes.

Terror, more profound than anything I’ve ever felt, galvanized me into action. I leapt up from my spot, intent on climbing through the window, buying myself a bit of time.

But the wolf was already running, I could hear thunder of his feet as I hoisted one leg up the window.

_Please._

Pain exploded in my left leg as I felt Dayal’s teeth close around it, digging deep into the flesh. I screamed and an entire chorus of ghostly voices echoed my screams back at me.

Though I tried to hold on to the windowsill, the wolf was always stronger than the human and with one, violent tug at my leg that sent a flash of white fire streaking across my vision, Dayal sent me crashing back down for a second time.

But instead of attacking as soon as he got me down, he started dragging. The pain was incredible.

I had never realized how strong the wolves were up until now.

But I could not bring myself to scream. A single thought, more painful than Dayal’s teeth digging into my leg, was pulsing inside my brain, as steady and as relentless as my heartbeat.

_I’mnotgoingtomakeitI’mnotgoingtomakeitI’mnotgoingtomakeitI’mnotgoingtomakeit._

Sorry, Crow.


	2. The Woodsman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love to Winterbugsy and to the anon on tumblr for giving this story a chance!

If I was going to die, I was going to take the bastard with me.

My fingers were numb, shaking, but I somehow managed to reach underneath my shirt and feel the wooden handle of my knife still safe within its holster.

Another gift, this time from Crow: a blade edged with silver. I was sure that he never meant for me to use it; of the two of us, he was the fighter. I was only ever good at running and hiding.

But I needed it now.

Clutching the knife in my hand, I deadweighted against Dayal even as the action made me want to scream in agony.

Suddenly, the dragging stopped. Dayal dropped my leg and turned to look at me.

His muzzle was wet with my blood, the eyes a reptilian gold: nothing human in them at all. The silver fur shone despite the weak morning light.

Even though knowing that this beast would kill me, I still found him beautiful.

Then, Dayal did something I wasn't expecting at all: he Changed back. Again, there were the sick cracking sounds as his bones began to reform and fur shot back into his skin. But the Change was slower this time.

I've never seen a wolf change from man to wolf to man again in such a short while.

Dayal was panting by the time he was done. He was weak, but so was I.

I needed him closer if I was going to strike. As if reading my thoughts, the beast walked towards me, his pace agonizingly slow.

He stopped somewhere near my head, leering at me. A thin sliver of drool, still red with my blood, slid down his chin.

I swallowed my fear, ran a finger across the blade of my knife and took comfort in the fact that that slight contact was enough to slice my skin.

"Hare," he said again. "I know you, Hare."

I remained silent, willing him to come closer. If I stabbed him in the leg now, all I would do is make him angry.

"You were his. You were Thomas' Hare."

The words sent a chill through me; I could feel ice crystallizing in my veins.

_He knew._

_I have to kill him._

Weak, bleeding, I had to kill this beast because _he knew he knew he knew._

"I asked for you, you know," Dayal continued. "You looked like you could provide good training for my pups, that red hair of yours would have made you easy to spot."

I had cut my hair brutally short and dyed it blonde immediately after I had escaped Thomas. He _could not_ have recognized me through my hair.

"Week later, Thomas turns up dead. Died during his Hunt." Dayal's foot lashed out, too fast for me to follow, and connected with my stomach. Pain exploded in that spot and I gasped for air that was not there. I dry-heaved at his feet, feeling my gut twist and turn inside me.

But still, I held on to the knife.

From my view on the ground, I could see that Dayal was sporting a sick grin. His penis was erect, jutting out from his bush of pubic hair.

He enjoyed this. Hurting me.

"I don't really care. Never liked him anyway. Selfish bastard; never liked to share his property." He made a careless hand gesture to indicate me.

"A month later, somebody dies, too. A pup, this time. Tony or Tommy, what does it matter? He's dead. What matters is that he's dead. Tried to chase a Hare up a building and fell off. Idiot. A day before full moon too, must have lost his head in the chase is what they say."

Johnny. The pup's name was Johnny. He was still screaming when he hit the ground.

"You see what I mean, Hare? It ain't right, wolves dying like that. You mightn't have noticed, but we're hard to kill." This time he made a gesture towards my leg. "Not like you, Hare."

His second kick caught me full in the face, not as hard as the first, but hard enough that my lip split.

My grip on the knife slackened, but I did not let go.

Dayal's voice turned whisper-soft, almost like a lover's. "See, Hare, what I don't believe is that you could have killed them. You couldn't have. You must have had help."

The last sentence sent a shiver through me.

No.

"Ah." I could hear the smile in his voice. "It's true then, you had help? Who was it then, Hare?"

I stayed silent. _No. Never. Hurt me all you want but you'll never get their names. I'll never betray them._

_Not Juniper or Haylee or Tobias. You'll never get their names out of me._

_Not Crow, who had been with me the longest._

_Definitely not Crow._

His gift to me was still in my hand, its presence like a talisman.

_I was going to kill this beast_. 

I held to it tighter and prayed for his strength.

"Who helped you, Hare?" Dayal moved, walking over to my injured leg. He put his foot on the injury, just the slightest bit of pressure. "Who helped you, Hare?"

I screamed as I felt his foot crushing my leg, the pain spreading sweeping across me like fire and swallowing me whole.

I had no idea how loud I screamed or how long Dayal kept me like that, all I knew was that I wanted the torture to end. When he took his foot off me, the relief was immediate. There was still pain, but I could think.

I could think.

But all I did was cry, great, hacking sobs that shook my entire body and made the pain in my gut worse. I felt a warm, spreading sensation in my pants and smelled the sour stink of urine.

I had pissed myself.

"Who helped you, Hare? I could make it a lot worse."

When I finally spoke my tongue felt thick and clumsy, my throat raw. They refused to make any words for me.

"What was that? Speak up, Hare." Dayal came over to me, knelt, clutched a fistful of hair and lifted my head up. The pain didn't even register. He held me close to his face, close enough to kiss. His breath smelled like blood and rot.

"Who helped you?"

I tried to speak again, but no words came. So instead, I lifted the hand that wasn't holding Crow's knife and pulled down the collar of my shirt to reveal an old, but very distinct injury. Two small puncture wounds on the left side of my neck.

Dayal snorted at the sight of them.

"The vamps? You're doing this for the vamps?"

I nodded, tears streaming down my cheeks.

The wolf was shaking his head. "You're a calf? I should have known. That's a lost cause there, Hare. They'd never take you." He stared at my face. "They like 'em pretty, unblemished. See, vamps have this idea that if they look perfect then they are perfect." With his free hand, he traced the scar that ran across my face, a long diagonal gash that started from below my left eye and ended at my jaw. It pulled my eye downward, making my entire face look lopsided.

He smiled suddenly at me. "I could help you, you know. Uplift you. Wouldn't take much. Make you this." he tugged at his wolfskin belt. "Make you one of us. The vamps would never take you, not with your face. But us wolves, we appreciate battle scars."

Crow had kissed that scar on many, many occasions and he had called me beautiful each time.

That was when I remembered his knife, still clutched in my stone-cold hand.

I struck. Unlike the wolf, I only had one tooth but this one was made of silver and it bit deep, burying itself into his right eye.

With a roar of pain and fury, Dayal dropped me causing my head to crack against the pavement. Though my vision was hazy, I could still see the smoke rising from where the blade met flesh.

Wolves heal at an incredible rate and an injury like the one I gave Dayal would normally heal within an hour. But silver was the game-changer.

Wounds caused by silver healed much slower; if they healed at all.

Dayal aimed a vicious kick at me but he missed, and instead stumbled and fell. His remaining eye glared at me, and I could feel the hate rising off him like heat.

This time, I met his gaze head on feeling only a cold satisfaction. I'll die but you'll go with me.

Then Dayal raised his head, the veins in his throat popping out. He was going to howl. Call his pack to him.

Dayal might be dead by the time they arrived, but I might still be alive.

JuniperHayleeTobiasCrow

I recited their names in my head like a prayer, trying to draw strength from them. But I felt only the cold and the fear that was with me wherever I went, like a mantle I never could shed.

Just as Dayal started to howl, the crack of thunder interrupted him and the wolf's head snapped back violently.

He crashed back down to the ground, motionless but still alive. I could hear his soft whimpers of pain.

Die faster, bastard.

My ears were still ringing from the gunshot, but there was no mistaking the voice I heard, high and tight the way it always got when she was scared or worried. My heart soared, even as darkness crept at the edge of my vision. It was not Dayal's pack that had come. It was mine. That voice could only belong to Juniper.

"Acacia!"

That's right. I thought hazily. Acacia. That's my name. Not Hare. Acacia.

All of a sudden I felt weak, drained. I didn't even have the energy to look towards the direction of the voice. Instead, I stared up at the lightening sky and waited for them to come to me.

They always came for me.

The ladder I had noticed earlier creaked as several people went down on it.

"Shit. Fuck. Shit. Did you good, didn't he, the bastard? You did good, kid." Another voice, rough and low. Haylee.

A voice I don't recognize, "Be careful, the bullet wasn't silver! He's still alive!"

I heard Juniper speaking again, "Acacia! Shit, she looks bad; Hopper, run back to the truck. Tell him--shit. Uh--uh, prep the truck to receive her. Tell Tobias that uh...uh...I don't know! Fuck, Crow, she looks bad. She looks really bad." Juniper's worried face swims into view. She was chewing at the end of her braid, the way she always did when she's scared.

Then I hear _his_ voice: brusque, clipped but still managing to sound calm. Crow

"Hopper, get back to the truck. When we get her there, I want it ready to receive her and tell Tobias that I want us ready to go as soon as we load her in. Haylee, take Hopper's gun and climb back up the fire exit, keep an eye out for wolves. Juniper, Juniper, Juniper. Juniper, listen to me. Stop twitching, it's not helping anyone. Juniper, make the bleeding stop, all right? I need to watch Dayal." I felt a wave of warmth at the sound of his voice.

_Crow was here_ , a phrase that I often found synonymous with the word _safety_.

There was the sound of shuffling as people hastened to obey him.

Somehow, I found my voice.

"Crow?" My voice was reed-thin, I could barely hear it myself. But he was Crow and he heard me.

"I'm here, Lucky." He sounded like he was somewhere to my left. "Lie still and let Juniper fix you up."

I turned my head in the direction of his voice. He was standing next to Dayal, who had curled up into a ball, as if trying to protect himself from his own agony. The sight of him, so near a _wolf_ , made my heart pound. I wanted to scream at him to get away, no, don't be so near. Dayal was a wolf, a beast.

Dangerous.

Something to run from. Hide, run, before it chases you. Crow hadn't even drawn his gun, it was still tucked safely in its holster.

But Dayal didn't look so dangerous now though, curled up at Crow's feet, blinded and in pain. Crow's face showed neither fear nor apprehension, only disgust. Without taking his eyes off the wolf, he talked to me.

"What happened to you, Lucky? We were waiting for you back at the Nest." Though his voice held no hint of reproach, the words still bit deep.   
_I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry._

I winced as I felt Juniper cut away my pants and begin to mop up the blood. I wondered if they would be able to save my leg.

"Eyes on me now, Lucky," Crow said sharply. "Don't mind Juniper. What happened?"

Hard not to mind Juniper when whatever she was putting on my leg made the pain worse. 

"Handicap," I finally said. "They wanted to give me a handicap, for the pups. One of the wolves bit me before the Hunt began."

There was a small gasp from somewhere in June's vicinity and the ministrations on my leg stopped. Then they started up again.

Crow's remaining eye narrowed at my words. "Any idea who bit you?"

I did; the silver wolf with the black markings, the one with drool oozing from his muzzle at the thought of inflicting pain, the same one curled up beside me, weeping softly.

He did not look so powerful now.

I avoided Crow's eyes as I said, "He did."

Faster than I would have believed, his gun was out, pointed straight at Dayal's chest.

BANGBANGBANG.

The sound of the gunshots thundered across the street and the wolf's body jerked three times.

Blood oozed lazily from three holes in his chest. But they weren't smoking.

I turned away from the sight, feeling ill. I had enough of blood today. "That necessary?" I asked.

"No," Crow said easily. "Made me feel better though. Don't worry about the bullets. I wouldn't want to waste any silver on a dead man."

"Wolf." The voice was so quiet I barely heard it.

"What was that?" Crow asked. "Speak louder, Dayal. Can't hear you."

With what looked like superhuman effort, Dayal turned on his back so he could look Crow straight in the eyes.

"Wolf. I am a wolf. Not a man," he growled. He spoke as if each word cost him. "Not a man, not like you. Cattle. Working for the vamps. Even pups would not turn on their own kind."

No, not like Crow. Not like Crow at all. That much, he and I could agree on.

That was when Crow laughed, a genuine belly-laugh that I would sometimes manage to tease out of him. Dayal froze.

"Is that what you think, Dayal? That we work for the vamps?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Dayal looked at me. "Lying little whore," he spat at me.

Crow knelt, grabbed the knife still embedded in Dayal's eye and twisted it. The wolf's pained shrieks sent chills through me.

"Call her that again and I'll put this someplace else. If you were a regular man, I'd threaten to cut off your cock. But you're not. How about that nose of yours that you're so proud of?"

"WOLF!" Dayal roared through his pain. "I am a WOLF. Not a man! Not like you. Never like you. Weak. Afraid. Faithless." Again, he caught my eye. "Turning against their owners."

Crow was not smiling now. "Acacia doesn't belong to anyone, except maybe to me. You are a man. You are like me. Exactly like me." He gestured to the eye patch that covered his ruined eye. "See? We match. You bleed like a man. And you'll die a man's death, Dayal Singh." The name ripped a snarl out of Dayal's throat.

With practiced dexterity, Crow untied the wolfskin belt around the other man's waist. Even though I've seen the process many times before, it still never failed to make me shiver. It was taboo, to touch a wolf's belt. If another wolf touched it, it usually ended in a fight, sometimes to the death.

If a human touched the belt, it did end in death. Usually for the human.

Even now, injured and overpowered, Dayal used the last of his strength to make a grab for his precious belt. But this time, the human was stronger than the wolf and Crow brushed away Dayal's scrabbling hands the same way one would brush off an annoying insect.

I felt it then, the heat that rose off of the two men as something broke between Dayal and his belt.

Without it, Dayal would no longer heal. He would die an ordinary human's death.

For a wolf like him, who sang to the moon alongside his pack and ran free across the Dead City, it was the worst possible death in the world.

My heart was singing.

"Done, Juniper?" Crow asked as he stood up and swung the belt across his shoulder with a casualness that bordered on sacrilege.

"As much as can be done. I can do more in the truck," Juniper replied.

"Good, I'll carry her." Crow puckered his lips and let out one short whistle and two long ones, both of which sounded like bird chirps; his signal to Haylee.

_Mission accomplished. Moving to set point. Continue to cover us._

An answering call from Haylee.

_Will do._

"This'll hurt, Lucky," Crow said to me as he knelt beside me. "Just bear with me."

I nodded, but still the pain that shot through me when I felt the pressure on my leg as he lifted me up had me gasping.

He waited until I had settled and the pain had slightly dulled. "Ready?" he asked me.

In answer, I raised a knuckle to my teeth and bit down on it. Crow grinned at me.

Dimly, I was aware of the blood that caked my legs, that I had not washed myself in three days and that I stunk of my own piss.

I had expected him to say something about it; Crow was blunt like that. But instead he touched his forehead against mine, an old gesture between us.

_I am here. You are safe. I'll protect you. You are safe._

*********

The truck was already idling by the time we reached it. Tobias was already in the driver's seat, waving at us and smiling.

"Nice to have you back, Acacia," he called to me. Juniper rushed forward to open the doors for us, but a dark-skinned boy I did not know did it for her. He blushed as Juniper thanked him.

The boy must have been the one who shot Dayal in the head. Damn good shot.

Behind us, I could hear Haylee shuffling down one of the buildings.

Crow set me down on the cot as gently as he could while the rest of the team climbed in the truck with us.

"Ready to go?" Tobias asked.

"Doesn't matter," Haylee said. "Wolves are coming fast. Go.'

The machine roared to life as Tobias drove it fast. As the truck fled, our usual routines started up.

Haylee sat down on the floor of the truck, right next to the kid and started to massage her legs. Juniper was getting out different bottles from one of the cabinets, muttering to herself.

Crow settled down beside me, his hand rubbing circles into mine.

"Hey, Acacia," Haylee said suddenly. "We've got a present for you back at the camp."

"Really? What is it?" I tried to sound enthusiastic, rather than tired.

"Vamp teeth. Two of them. Hopper here." She nudged the boy beside her, who blushed. "Got attacked by a vamp at the last raid. I knocked out its fangs with my rifle." Pride oozed out of her voice.

"Try not to lose our presents, this time," Juniper said as she came closer to me, syringe in hand. "Figured you wouldn't want the scarf back after that beast had his paws all over it."

Just I felt the car take a sharp turn, the wolves started howling. They must have found the body.

"Oh can they shut _up_?" Haylee snapped. "They howl for every single thing they do, like anyone else cares what they're up to."

But the sound made me remember the way Dayal had howled in the alley, still in his human skin, as he hunted for me. The memory made me feel cold and despite being surrounded by my friends, I shivered, the tips of my fingers feeling numb.

I leaned into Crow, seeking his warmth.

"The howling bothering you?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Don't worry about it, Lucky," he said with a confidence I envied. "Not long now, you'll be able to sleep without hearing them."

I made a face at him.

"We'll kill them, Acacia." He squeezed my hand. "We'll kill them all."

I believed him.


End file.
